


Walk Beside Me

by DelphiPsmith



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphiPsmith/pseuds/DelphiPsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Friendship is a slow-ripening fruit." -- Aristotle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Beside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lah_mrh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lah_mrh/gifts).



> Written for [lah_mrh](http://lah_mrh.livejournal.com), for the 2015 [Happy Trekmas](http://happy-trekmas.livejournal.com/) fest.
> 
> Thanks to N, my best beta and sounding board. The title is taken from the well-known saying, "Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Walk beside me, and be my friend." The line in Kirk's next-to-last log entry beginning "If I could choose..." is adapted from a line in Lerner and Loewe's _Camelot_.

*** Where no man has gone before *** 

_Science Officer's personal log, stardate 1313.0_

I am uncertain how to respond to the situation that is developing aboard the _Enterprise_. Lieutenant Gary Mitchell's growing ESP powers, triggered by our encounter with the galactic barrier, pose a clear threat not only to individual crew members but to the ship itself. Unchecked, it is highly probable that he -- or rather, the creature he has become -- will destroy the ship, just as the _Valiant_ was destroyed. 

Yet when I presented the Captain with the only logical options -- to maroon Mitchell on Delta Vega, or to kill him while it is still possible -- he rejected both. Quite vehemently, in fact. I suspect that his emotions are clouding his judgment, a common failing in humans. Captain Pike occasionally experienced conflicts of this type but was admirably capable of rising above his emotions and resolving them properly; the good of the ship was always the deciding factor. He was a man who knew himself well. 

This captain, I must admit, is not what I had expected. Perhaps it is his youth that discomfits me? He is much younger than Captain Pike, and in humans, youth is frequently correlated with faulty judgment. Yet he would not have been given command of a _Constitution_ -class ship unless he was deemed capable, and his Starfleet record, both at the Academy and on board the _Farragut_ , are exemplary. But his deliberate blindness to the fact that his friend Gary Mitchell no longer exists concerns me, and endangers us all.

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 1313.0_

Mitchell's getting worse. But I'm not going to abandon an old friend just because he might be dangerous, no matter how _logical_ my science officer thinks it is. There's got to be another solution. Would Pike have listened to him on this? I can't believe he would have. 

Spock's a cold fish, no question, even for a Vulcan. What was it he said when we were playing chess earlier? One of his ancestors married a human female? Maybe he feels like he's got to be twice as Vulcan as the rest of them to prove he's not affected by his human heritage. Hard to picture how he and Pike managed to work together for so long, but his personnel file is crammed with sterling reviews, nothing but praise, not just for performance of duties, but for character as well. Chris doesn't praise lightly, and he's a good judge of men. Whatever he saw in Spock, I'll just have to wait until I see it too.

 

_Science officer's personal log, stardate 1314.1_

Lieutenant Mitchell, or the being that he became, is dead, as is Doctor Elizabeth Dehner. The Captain specifically requested that it be noted in both their service records, "Gave their life in performance of their duty." When I questioned him on this, pointing out that although Doctor Dehner's actions qualified, Mitchell's did not, he replied, "He didn't ask for what happened to him."

For some reason this resonated with me. I too struggle with an alien force, alien to my race at least: my human half. I too did not ask for it, but at least I have my Vulcan heritage and training to assist me. Lieutenant Mitchell had nothing to rely on but his humanity, and it proved too weak. I felt for him in that moment, as a kind of kindred spirit.

When I expressed this sentiment to the Captain, he replied, "I believe there's some hope for you after all, Mister Spock." I hope he did not misunderstand my statement.

I am relieved to note that when the moment came on Delta Vega, the Captain did not hesitate to act. My fears that he is over-reliant on his emotions appear to have been unfounded. That would be well. However, since Lieutenant Mitchell was his friend, and both were members of his crew, he may be feeling some human emotions now. At such times Captain Pike would often seek out my company -- he said he found my lack of emotion restful...

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 1314.4_

Well, it's over. Mitchell's dead. I don't think there was much left of my friend there at the end, but it hurts that he's gone and that I had a hand in it, however necessary. I had no choice, I did what I had to do, but still, to lose two crew members within the first few weeks of taking command...

Spock stopped by my quarters a little while ago. Said he hoped I wasn't beating myself up too badly -- well, no, what he actually said was he hoped that I was "not indulging the human tendency to brood on unfortunate events and assume more blame than was my due." 

I asked him what he thought about what Mitchell had said, that "Command and compassion are a fool's mixture." That's been gnawing at me, the fear that maybe he was right. Maybe my friendship with Gary got in the way. If I'd followed Spock's suggestions sooner, Doctor Dehner would still be alive.

"Mitchell was incorrect," he said. "Compassion is a valuable component in command decisions."

Not the answer I'd expected, and I couldn't resist teasing him a little. "You surprise me, Mister Spock," I said. "I thought you'd be all logic, all the way."

One eyebrow twitched. "It is not that Vulcans _have_ no emotions, Captain," he said. "It is simply that we control them, rather than letting them control us. Compassion, what in Vulcan we call _utan'es_ , is an essential quality for any leader, particularly one engaged in contact with other species."

"How so?"

"It encourages patience and careful deliberation in decisions which might injure others. And it promotes common cause among sentient beings, without which conflict becomes far more likely." He paused for a moment, then added, "One must, of course, know when the time has come to act, even if the consequences are painful. As you did on Delta Vega."

I felt better after talking with him. I hope he stays on the _Enterprise_. Now that Pike is gone there's a chance he'll ask for a transfer, but I'd like to keep him. He's someone whose respect I'd like to have. I'm looking forward to telling him he's been promoted to First Officer.

*** The cage ***

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3012.3_

Commodore Mendez and I are aboard the shuttlecraft _Picasso_ , chasing the _Enterprise_. Chasing _my ship_ , which my First Officer has commandeered.

Can Vulcans go crazy? I wouldn't have thought so, but I can't think of any other explanation. McCoy says Vulcans can't lie, but he's half-human so maybe he's mastered that particular trick after all. Spock -- Spock, of all people! -- faked a message from Starfleet, impersonated my voice, stole my ship! After two years of serving together I thought I was getting to know him, thought we were building a basis of mutual respect, but I can't wrap my head around this.

And why take Captain Pike with him? The man can't move or speak; he's nothing but a shell of what he once was...and god, how hideous that must be. For someone used to roaming the galaxy, in command of a starship, to not even be in command of your own body... The very thought makes me sick. Death would be preferable to such a fate. I wonder if Spock's Vulcan mind can encompass such an emotion. I wonder if he'd find it logical.

Maybe so. Piper said Spock's loyalty to Pike was something extraordinary. Maybe that's the key to the mystery. But contact with Talos IV is forbidden under General Order 7. Spock knows that, it was his recommendation and Pike's that resulted in General Order 7 in the first place. So he's risking death...for what? Spock's logical abilities and his intellect are tremendous, even for a Vulcan; I'm in awe of his mind and what is can do. So what can have persuaded him that these actions make sense, or that there was no other way to accomplish whatever goal he has in mind?

No, there's got to be a reason. There _has_ to be. I have to trust that Spock knows what he's doing, and that this will all make sense in the end. I don't want to consider the alternative. 

 

_First Officer's personal log, stardate 3013.1_

We served together for eleven years, four months, five days. From him I learned that humans are much more than I had suspected, that their acceptance (and occasional indulgence) of their emotions is not a handicap, but a gift that enriches their short lives. I know how he feels now, trapped within a body he can neither use nor discard. I could not -- cannot -- permit him to suffer in this way, perhaps for years, not when I can help him.

And yet now, in only a few short hours, I will have utterly failed my former captain unless I can convince my current one that I am not a madman. There is a chance that I have not only doomed myself -- the penalty for contact with Talos IV is death, according to General Order 7 -- but also ruined Captain Kirk's career. He knew nothing of what I planned, I was careful to ensure that, and could not have predicted it, but as Commodore Mendez pointed out, the captain is ultimately responsible for the actions of those under his command. 

I hope it will not come to that. I have learned to respect James Kirk greatly over the past few months. He is a man that inspires loyalty in others, and a desire to strive to live up to his expectations. His human emotions are powerful, but they are balanced by his strong sense of honor and duty. When he appointed me First Officer, I was...pleased. I regret the necessity of misleading him, and I will be sorry to lose the opportunity to serve under him. For I am certain that no matter the outcome of my mission to Talos IV, he will no longer wish to have me as part of his crew. He strikes me as a man whose trust is hard-won; the damage I have done is, I fear, irreparable.

Despite this, I have refused to return control of the ship to him until he has seen all the evidence, knows the entire story. He must see it. He must understand, so that I can complete my mission. And then I will do whatever I must to ensure that he is not penalized for my actions.

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3013.7_

So, the mystery is solved: all of this grew out of Spock's desire to give his Captain the gift of freedom. What was it Pike said in the recording? "There's a way out of any cage, and I'll find it." Well, this time he needed help. Spock deliberately put himself in danger of execution, for the chance to release Captain Pike's mind from the cage of his body. Remarkable.

It's one thing to risk your life in the heat of battle, or in the midst of a mission, when something happens suddenly and unexpectedly. I've done it, others have done it for me. But to plan something like this, to deliberately risk his career, his reputation, his liberty, knowing that it could end in a death sentence? Spock's courage and loyalty are extraordinary. 

And yet it was a surprisingly emotional response for a Vulcan, wasn't it? Not at all logical. He claims it was, but it's hard for me to see it as anything but devotion to his captain, pure and simple. And admirable.

That's the proof, I think, of a great captain: his people give him their best, not because his rank requires it or regulations impose it, but because they _want_ to give it. The gold shirt and the braid, the captain's chair, those don't mean anything if those you lead, follow only because they have to. 

I'm glad we won't be losing Mister Spock. The officers and crew of the _Enterprise_ are the best I've ever worked with. They deserve _my_ best. With the help of an exceptional First Officer, I intend to give it to them.

 

_First Officer's personal log, stardate 3013.9_

I am alive. I am free. And I am still First Officer of the _Enterprise_. An unexpected _sanok-shataya_ , and I am...glad? Yes, that is the word. A human emotion, but applicable.

Although the court-martial that took place on the _Enterprise_ was an illusion, I was...am...guilty of mutiny, kidnapping, and impersonating an officer, among other things. When Commodore Mendez left the final decision in the hands of Captain Kirk, the logical response would have been to place me under arrest pending a true court-martial. Instead he chided me for not coming to him in the first place and accused me of "flagrant emotionalism" -- then allowed me to bid farewell to Captain Pike, and declined to accept my resignation when later, in private, I offered it.

"Your actions were justified by your sense of duty and loyalty to your former commanding officer. No charges have been filed against you as a result of your rather unorthodox actions. Captain Pike now has a chance to live out his life with dignity and happiness. I see no reason for you to resign."

"A captain must be able to trust his First Officer implicitly," I pointed out. 

"Captain Pike trusted you. His trust was not misplaced."

"But my actions have shown that _you_ cannot trust me. Therefore you must replace me as First Officer."

He narrowed his eyes, a quirk I have observed when he is faced with a puzzle he intends to solve. "Mister Spock, when one has a goal, is it logical to choose the tools best suited to achieving that goal?"

"Of course, Captain."

"Can a captain excel without a good First Officer?"

"Highly unlikely, sir."

"And how would you rank your own capabilities as First Officer?"

"I believe that humans find it inappropriate to, er, ‘toot one's own trumpet'," I hedged.

He waved a hand. "Please, Mister Spock. Toot away."

There are times when my Vulcan lack of ego feels remarkably like its opposite. "I would estimate that I am one of the top five First Officers in the fleet at this time, sir."

He leaned forward, hands clasped loosely between his knees, and looked me in the eye. "In that case, Mister Spock, would it not be highly illogical of me to allow you to resign?"

Occasionally, loyalty to one's captain becomes more than a matter of logic and duty. So it was for me with Captain Pike. So, I begin to think, it may be with Captain Kirk.

*** City on the edge of forever *** 

_Captain's personal log, no stardate_

Strange to have no stardate, but for myself and Spock, and the rest of the landing party left behind on the planet, time no longer exists. There is no Starship _Enterprise_ , just 1930s New York City. The Depression. And Spock in a woollen hat, which I find much more amusing than I should. Then again, fair is fair: he seemed pretty amused by my feeble attempt to explain his ears to that policeman. A mechanical rice picker -- what in god's name was I thinking?

His ability to innovate is astonishing, though. I'd have thought even his Vulcan brain would be stumped by the task of building something capable of accessing his tricorder out of "this zinc-plated vacuum-tube culture," as he put it. But there he sits, night after night, tinkering, while I shop for groceries and do the cooking. We're positively domestic. But I have faith in him. If anyone can do it, he can.

I just hope he can do it before McCoy shows up.

 

_First Officer's personal log, stardate 0082.5 (by my best calculations)_

My work on the mnemonic memory circuit is progressing, despite the severely limited technology at my disposal. Our inability to acquire platinum is a setback, but the watchmaker's tools have been a great aid in adjusting the access mechanism's specificity. We are fortunate to have stumbled onto Edith Keeler and her mission; our chances of success are now minuscule rather than non-existent. I hope that the Captain's faith in me will not prove misplaced.

Edith Keeler is a fascinating woman. Her predictions about harnessing the atomic power and spaceships may be due to speculation or gifted insight, but her perception about people is...unnerving. Last night she came into the room to inquire about the watchmakers' tools I had borrowed. I explained that I needed them for my work, and when the Captain added his assurance she relented. Then she said, "I still have a few questions I'd like to ask about you two. You know as well as I do how out of place you are around here."

"Interesting," I said. "Where would you estimate we belong, Miss Keeler?"

"You?" she replied without hesitation. "At his side, as if you've always been there and always will be."

How did she know? Was she intuiting it simply from watching the two of us -- or did she, somehow, pluck it from my own mind?

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3148.8_

Hitler won the war, and all because of Edith Keeler's belief in peace. Hard to believe that one person can have such a profound effect on the future. "Save her, do as your heart tells you to do, and millions will die who did not die before," Spock said. For once, just once, I wish his logic hadn't been so perfect. But that's a First Officer's job: to advise his captain, even if it's not what he wants to hear. And I knew he was right. So I stopped Doctor McCoy from saving her. She was killed in the street, run down by a truck, just as her obituary said she would be. A beautiful, kind, intelligent woman, full of hope for humanity's future, and I let her die.

Is it possible to hate yourself for doing the right thing? I wonder what Spock would say.

 

_First Officer's personal log, stardate 3149.1_

When the door to my quarters opened and I saw Captain Kirk, the first thing I thought to say was not "Come in," but "I am sorry."

"Sorry?" he said with a half-smile. "For being right?"

"I am a Vulcan," I reminded him. "I can never be sorry for the accurate assessment of facts. But I can regret the circumstances that made it necessary that Edith Keeler should die. She was a remarkable woman, and I am sure she had much to give."

There was such pain in his face that it made me wish I were fully human, and could say the words of comfort that seem to come so easily to them. Instead, I simply opened the door and wordlessly invited him in.

He sat down in a chair. "If I've done the right thing, Spock, shouldn't it feel better than this?"

"Miss Keeler believed in the value of knowledge, of scientific advancement, of man's search for the stars," I said slowly. "If she knew of the Federation and its mission of peace; if she knew of the _Enterprise_ and its mission, and if she knew that her death would make all of that possible, do you think she would consider it a fair bargain?"

He did not answer immediately, and I thought perhaps he was angry with the analytic nature of my response. Then he looked up and I saw relief in his eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "Yes, I believe she would have." He stood and put a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, Spock."

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3149.2_

Who'd have thought a Vulcan of all people would come up with the perfect words to ease my mind? Or rather, who'd have thought logic could be so comforting?

There was one other thing I wanted to bring up, though, and this seemed as good a time as any. "Spock, I've been thinking about something Edith said...Not that I expect you to spend your entire career on the _Enterprise_ \-- you'll likely want your own ship someday, after all. But I've come to rely on your expertise and advice, and it's hard for me to imagine anyone else as my First Officer..." I was babbling like an idiot. What I wanted to say was that his Vulcan ways had grown on me, that I'd come to think of him as a friend, a close friend, and that I'd hate to lose him, but somehow I couldn't quite get the words out. Would a Vulcan take human friendship as a compliment or an insult? Or a complete irrelevance? "Well...where do you see yourself in five years?" I ended lamely.

Spock raised one eyebrow. His face was expressionless as always, but I caught a glint of what might have been humor in his eyes. "At your side, Captain. As if I have always been there."

I grinned. "Good night, Spock."

He inclined his head gravely. "Good night, Captain."

*** Amok time *** 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3374.6_

Bones thinks I'm crazy to divert us from Altair VI, but a medical emergency involving one of my crew outweighs some diplomatic dog and pony show.

I can only imagine how embarrassing this must be for Spock. I know how much he values his self-control, his logic. His mind. To have all of that ripped away from him must be...excruciating. Despite all of this, I can only be proud that he's chosen me to stand with him on this occasion. Named me as one of his closest friends. If that's selfish of me, well, so be it. I'll confess it to him someday when the time is right. He'll raise one eyebrow and make some typically Spockian comment and we'll get past it.

It's a strange thing: he and I have served together for more than two years now, saved each other's life more than once, and yet I've never been entirely sure where I stand with him. We've never discussed it, and Vulcan that he is, he's impossible to read. Even if we had, there's no guarantee that Vulcans use the word "friend" the same way humans do. (Rumor has it that they actually have sixteen different words for friend, so they can accurately name every degree and shading. Somehow I'm not surprised.) And I know Vulcans don't do anything so illogical as look down on people, but the idea that he thinks of me, of all humans, as inferior because of our emotions still rears its head occasionally.

But in the end it doesn't matter. Because there's no question in _my_ mind: If I could choose from every man who breathes in this galaxy, a man for my brother, a man for my son, and a man for my friend, they would all be Spock.

 

_First Officer's personal log, stardate 3375.1_

I had, foolishly, hoped that my half-human genetic makeup would minimize or even remove altogether the danger of the _pon farr_ , but it is not to be. My only chance to salvage my dignity was that the Captain would trust me sufficiently to grant my request without explanation -- and so he did, and all would have been well were it not for that _bath'pa_ inauguration on Altair VI. Now, he has disobeyed a direct order from a Starfleet admiral for my sake. And I? I am too weak to protest.

To even acknowledge the time of madness, the most private of Vulcan rites, is terrible enough. We do not speak of it. That it will be exposed to outsiders, witnessed by a human, ought logically to cause me shame beyond bearing...and yet it does not. The thought that Jim will be there is, rather, a source of comfort. My father would consider this a weakness, I am certain. He was against my leaving Vulcan and opposed to my joining Starfleet; my commendations and successes have not moved him. But my mother...I think my mother would understand.

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3378.2_

How do I get myself into these situations? How?

 

_First Officer's personal log, stardate 3378.6_

He is dead. May all the gods forgive me, he is dead at my hand. And I never told him what his friendship...no, what _he_...meant to me. Both logic and emotion fail me...

 

_Captain's personal log, stardate 3379.2_

They say you can't be friends with a Vulcan. That Vulcans view that kind of attachment as illogical. Well, I can tell you that whoever "they" are, they don't know what they're talking about. Hearing Spock shout "Jim!" with such joy in his voice, seeing that amazed, incredulous grin -- a Vulcan! grinning! -- I know they're wrong. I've been his friend for a long time; now I know for certain that he's mine as well.


End file.
